


Do You Regret It?

by Olcanarmo



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 20:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18724345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olcanarmo/pseuds/Olcanarmo
Summary: Set between All Hands on Decker and Quintessential Deckerstar. From Chloe’s point of view. Nowhere near as angsty as the actual show was at that point.





	Do You Regret It?

The average magazine-reading member of the public assumed that the paparazzi were the worst gossips in the world, but Chloe could have told them that the LAPD had the paparazzi beat. Cops gossiped with forensic attention to detail and a professional ear for a lie. As the former Palmetto Bitch who had married and divorced a dirty cop, been engaged to and dumped her boss, and who had had, well, a few significant moments with her partner who claimed to be the Devil, she knew she had become a person of interest to the LAPD. A person of interest working in an office with glass walls.

It was important not to react. She kept her face emotionless, avoiding eye contact on her way to her desk. She wasn’t one for prayer, but the words _Oh, please let today’s case be a routine one as far from the precinct as possible_ did crosshermind as she sat and booted up her computer. All she wanted was to get out of HQ, manage a quick result, and get home to Trixie at a sensible hour. Maybe taser someone to relieve her feelings. Nothing too public, nothing too weird, nothing to do with…

“Lucifer Morningstar, so I brought him in.”

_Calm face, calm face_. A uniformed officer was coming towards her talking with Dan.

“Hey, Dan. What’s going on?” Chloe asked, rising to meet them. Her face _was_ calm, and if her voice was a little high-pitched, who could blame her?

“Officer Janvier’s got a weird one,” Dan supplied.

“Ah.” _Of course._

“I’ll let her tell it,” Dan added. “Coffee?” He headed for the break room.

“Have a seat,” Chloe said.

As a rule, beat cops didn’t turn down food, coffee, or a chance to sit down. Officer Janvier sat. A tall black woman who was maybe ten years younger than Chloe, she had the face of someone who had stared down every strange thing LA could produce and then arrested most of it.

“So…?” Chloe prompted.

“Look, I’m going to tell you what I got, and then believing it or not is what you get paid for, OK? You don’t get to tell me it’s crazy. I _know_ that. You don’t get to go marking anything in my file just because I did my job.”

“Not a thing,” Chloe promised. “I don’t even have access to your file.”

Janvier’s mouth twisted, suppressing whatever comment she felt was inadvisable to speak out loud. Chloe wondered what she’d heard about Detective Decker, but then the woman relaxed enough to drop her shoulders half a centimetre and start talking.

“OK, like I told Detective Espinoza, me and my partner got called to a report of shots fired not two blocks from where we were. She puts her foot down and we get there in time to find some white guy’s got Dash Miller by the neck with one hand and is holding a gun with the other. But the gun’s pointing at the sidewalk, and who hasn’t wanted to choke Dash Miller, so I’m keeping an open mind.”

Chloe nodded and mmm-hmmed agreement. Cops or criminals, the trick was to let them talk.

“Yeah, so, my partner - that’s officer Gunaratnam - she’s telling him to drop the gun, and I’m keeping an eye on the crowd. Dash’s wife Carrie is down on the pavement, face all beat up. Couple of her friends with their arms around her. Rest of the folks are just gawking, which ain’t usual. Not the sort of neighbourhood where people wait around to be good little witnesses. Anyway, guy drops the gun, drops Dash. We cuff ‘em both, and another cop car arrives with the ambulance just behind. We ask Carrie a couple of questions while she’s getting patched up. Get some statements from the crowd too.”

She gave Chloe another assessing look. Chloe returned it full measure and Janvier continued.

“The story we get - and they all tell it pretty much the same - is that Carrie goes to leave Dash for the millionth time, thinking he’s too drunk to notice, which he ain’t. She barely makes it out the door. He hits her a couple of times, and she’s crying and screaming, but he’s more pissed than usual because he goes back for his gun. And then this guy nobody knows, he strolls up and steps between them. Dash shoots him. Three shots, distance of maybe six feet. And the bullets bounce.”

“You mean he was wearing a vest?”

“Nuh-uh. Real old fashioned shirt, trousers, not a bit of Kevlar on him. The bullets hit him, he just don’t bleed. Forensics are searching for the bullets that were fired, but the ones left in the gun weren’t blanks.” 

“And even blanks would have hurt at that range.”

“Yeah.” She leant forward in her chair. “But this guy keeps strolling, lifts Dash off the ground by the throat - and Dash is a few inches taller and broader than him for whatever that’s worth - and takes the gun. That’s when we arrived.” She sat back, point made.

“Did you ID the guy?”

“He didn’t have ID on him. No wallet. But he says his name is Emuniel and he’s looking for Lucifer Morningstar.”

Chloe sighed. “Is Emuniel in interrogation?”

“Yeah. We thought you’d want to talk to him. Lucifer being your…”

“Consultant,” Chloe said. It was an easier word than partner, especially with Janvier trying to hide a smirk. She stood up and then thought of something that she hadn’t asked. It was never a good idea to ignore an experienced cop’s instincts. “What did you make of him? Emuniel?”

Janvier gave a minimal shrug. “He seems confused.”

“High? Off his meds?”

“More like a twelve year old who just arrived at the LA bus station.” Her face brightened as Dan returned with coffee. “Thank you. If you’ll all excuse me, I have to go work out what the Hell I’m putting in my arrest report.”

Chloe watched Janvier stride away. “Dan,” she said, “have you ever just wished for a normal, quiet day?”

“No,” he said. “Wouldn’t be any point. This place just keeps getting weirder.”

“Huh. I suppose so.”

 

There hadn’t been any sign of Lucifer yet, which was good. There was a degree less pressure without him, although the prickly feeling that he was waiting for her to say or do something she didn’t have the strength for never really went away. She had just broken up with Marcus and she didn’t need… whatever. But as she opened the interrogation room door, she was still sorry he wasn’t there.

If the man waiting for her had been angry enough to grab Miller by the throat, he had calmed down since. A white guy, as officer Janvier had said. Stubble on his chin, and brown hair barely any longer than stubble receding from a high forehead. Late thirties, maybe. Far too old to be giving out the runaway kid vibe that Janvier had identified. But the blue-grey eyes scanning the room had the nervous look of someone pretending not to be completely out of their depth. He tried to stand up when he saw her, which she thought was an attempt at respect rather than a threat, and the handcuffs attached to the table brought him up short.

“Hi,” said Chloe, more softly than she had intended. “Emuniel, right? I’m Detective Decker.” She took a chair and he sat back down.

“Hello, Detective Decker,” he replied with a British accent that made her start. “The officer said that you know my brother, Lucifer. Would you please tell him that I’m here?”

“Oh!” _Brother?! Calm face, calm face._ “No. Um, Lucifer’s not here yet. I do work with him though. He’s a friend of mine.” She realised that she had adopted the tone she used on Trixie and resolved not to call him Monkey. “While we wait for him, can I ask you some questions?”

He nodded.

“Do you know why Officer Janvier brought you here?”

“She arrested me.”

“Yes. Do you know why she did that?”

He shook his head.

“OK, you were arrested because the officers saw you assaulting a man called Dash Miller.”

Emuniel frowned. “I was helping the woman he hurt. He deserved to be punished. That’s how it works.”

“No, that’s why you should have called 911. Not stepped in front of a gun.”

The frown deepened. “911? To summon Officer Janvier? I didn’t need assistance.”

“See, that’s just not true, although I’m sure the woman you helped was grateful. Can you tell me how you didn’t get shot?”

He seemed puzzled by the question. “I _was_ shot. Bullets don't hurt me like they would hurt a human.”

“Uh-huh. So that would make you... not a human? Who exactly are you?”

Chloe hoped that someone had got him to pee into a cup so they could test for… something. He was worryingly earnest. 

Earnest and a little desperate. He looked around at the cameras and mirror. “If my brother is here, he will explain. Or perhaps my mother?”

“Your mother? Do you mean your stepmom? Charlotte Richards?”

He was still giving her the _Why doesn’t this woman believe in my pet unicorn?_ face “No, our mother. Lucifer left, and then she went after him. I tried waiting for them to come back. But they were gone for such a long time... and I’d seen how Lucifer got out, so I followed him here. I want to ask them… to _tell_ them they have to come home now. You said you knew him. You must understand.”

“I really don’t. That is, I understand that your family was difficult and Lucifer had a falling out with your Dad.” Chloe could feel her patience running out. If there was one thing she knew about her partner, it was that he didn’t want to go back to wherever used to be home.

Emuniel was staring past her at his own memories. “It wasn’t a falling out, Detective Decker. It was a battle. My brothers and sisters and I had to choose: Lucifer or Father. And Lucifer had always wanted what was best for us, so I chose him. If anyone could have won the day it would have been Lucifer. But we lost. We lost our home, and the rest of our family. Thrown out of the Silver City…”

_Wherever the Silver City might be,_ Chloe thought. But Emuniel was continuing, his voice rising.

“... but that wasn’t as hard as finding ourselves in Hell. We had never imagined it, hadn’t had _reason_ to imagine it. We would never have thought that our Father would allow it to exist. It was the first time any of us had felt despair. And then Lucifer stood up and just smiled. He spread his arms and told us that we should be glad; that we were better off not to be serving in Heaven anymore. And I believed him. There was no one else I _could_ have believed, but he never lies to us. He always makes us feel better. We were hopeless and he made us stand up and make a new home. And he has to come back because it wasn’t Hell until he left.” He buried his face in his hands.

Chloe never knew how she would have responded to that mystifying outpouring. The door opened and Lucifer leant in.

“Hello, Detective,” he said, smiling. “Did you start without me? Well, never mind. What pathetic specimen am I wresting the truth from today?”

“You tell me,” Chloe said as Emuniel’s head lifted in delight.

“Oh, bloody Hell!” Lucifer said, catching sight of him.

But Emuniel was out of his seat, and somehow out of his handcuffs, and had wrapped Lucifer in a hug that seemed likely to break his ribs. He buried his face in the shoulder of Lucifer’s jacket. 

Chloe saw Lucifer grimace. “Brother, you’re ruining this suit,” he objected, but the hand that came up to cradle the back of Emuniel’s head was gentle. “And you’ve met the Detective, I see. That's nothing to cry over, I promise. She’s on the side of the angels, fallen or otherwise. And everyone gets in trouble with the police sooner or later. Think of it as a rite of passage. Rather like losing your virginity.” 

As he kept up the calming patter his dark eyes met Chloe’s with a question.

“He attacked a scumbag wife beater and almost got shot,” Chloe provided.

“Sounds perfectly laudable. Emuniel, what are you _doing_ here?” He guided his brother back to his seat, and snagged another chair so that he could sit next to him.

Emuniel grabbed his brother’s hands, and Chloe didn’t think he noticed Lucifer stiffen. “I came to find you. To bring you home. Please, Lucifer.”

Lucifer shook his head. “It’s not home, brother. Not yours, and not mine. No matter how we tried to make it so.”

There was a long silence as Emuniel’s hopes died. He whispered, “Then where is home?” 

A smile flickered across Lucifer’s face. “Humans say it’s where the heart is. So, tell me, where is your heart?”

He sat up straight. “With you.”

Lucifer tilted his head. “Oh, brother. You can’t lie to me about desire. Where is your heart? Where is your home?”

Dark and light eyes met, and Chloe could see tears shining in both of them.

“The Silver City,” Emuniel said.

“There you go. Telling the truth never did shame me.” He gave a grin that aimed for lighthearted and fell somewhat short.

“We can’t go back,” Emuniel stated.

“ _I_ can’t go back. I’m sure if you go and beg Dad’s forgiveness he’ll let you in faster than a rat up a drainpipe.”

Hope returned briefly to Emuniel’s face until another realisation snuffed it out. “I don’t want to go without you.”

“Well, that can’t be helped,” Lucifer murmured. “Detective?”

“Lucifer?” 

“Do you suppose you could release my brother or will I have to arrange a jailbreak?”

“Could I have a word with you? In private.”

Chloe didn’t bother handcuffing Emuniel again, but she locked the door as she dragged Lucifer around to the other side of the one-way mirror.

“Lucifer,” she said. “You can’t just talk about a jailbreak in an interview room. We’ll get him a lawyer…” She trailed off, hating the look he was giving her. Any minute now he was going to say ‘please’ and make her lose all her professionalism.

“He’s innocent, Detective. Apart from a tragically short moment millennia ago when he was foolish enough to follow my lead, he’s probably the most innocent being you’ll ever meet. Do you have the culprit? The ‘scumbag wife-beater’ as you referred to him?”

“We have Dash Miller in custody, but that doesn’t mean that your brother can just walk out of here. His statement was just…” she made a noise of frustration. “OK, his statement won’t help us prosecute Miller. I mean, you speak in metaphors sometimes, but he speaks in nothing else. He needs help.” 

“You’re right. Let me send him home. Please, Detective.”

So much for a quiet shift. She sighed. “Do you ever get the feeling someone up there’s laughing at us?”

Lucifer’s eyes flicked to Emuniel on the other side of the glass and he gave a small huff of acknowledgement. “Yes. Dad does that.”

 

Dan’s call came just before the end of her shift.

“Hey, I don’t know what you said to Lucifer, but he’s drowning his sorrows in The Paddock.”

Chloe groaned. “Dan, you know I can’t deal with him right now. Trixie’s sitter…” 

“I can go make Trixie’s dinner. You don’t mind if Charlotte comes along, right?”

For a second, Chloe felt something very ugly that she had no right to feel at all. “No, Dan. Lucifer is a big boy. He can get drunk without my help.”

“Then why is he getting drunk in a bar full of cops and not at Lux?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not a… a cry for help. He probably just followed some cute blonde inside.”

“He’s probably waiting for you to follow him.”

“Dan!” she protested.

“Go on. Sort him out. We’ll look after Trixie.”

 

Chloe was not in the best mood when she entered the bar and scanned it for her partner. He wasn’t hard to spot. Elegance wasn’t a priority for cops getting drunk. Gemstone-green three piece suits were rare.

Having spotted him, she hesitated. She had a feeling that her plan to keep a low profile was about to go to Hell. This was a man who had punched Paolucci about where she was currently standing. Then again, this was a man who had punched Paolucci for her and ‘ _in no way standing up for_ ’ her be damned. She jerked her head at the man sitting next to Lucifer at the bar, and he gave up his stool with relief. 

“Hey, Lucifer,” she said.

“Detective!” he beamed.

“What happened, did Lux run out of whiskey?”

“It’s Monday night, Detective. The cleaning service are working their magic at Lux and they don’t need to work around me. But it’s good that you’re here!” He beckoned at the bartender. “Let me buy you a drink. I wanted to thank you for letting Emuniel go.”

“Lucifer, be quiet!” she hissed. “I don’t want the whole precinct to know I released your brother. Is he here? Or is he staying with you?”

He looked defeated. “No, he chose to go home. It was all quite easy in the end. Flew off to join Dad.” His smile was a touch bitter.

Chloe sighed and asked the bartender for a beer, wincing when Lucifer ordered another whiskey for himself. He was still relatively coordinated so he couldn’t be terribly drunk, but she could see he was working to put some distance between himself and sobriety. He probably needed to talk. Which was just as well because curiosity was eating at her.

“Do you… do you have many brothers and sisters?” she asked, feeling her way into the conversation.

“Enough to fill the heavens. You see why I preferred Maze’s company in Hell. Say what you like about Demons, they don’t look at you with big puppy dog eyes expecting Dad knows what from you.” 

Chloe nodded. “Yes, other people’s expectations can be hard.” She winced again. That was a bit more honest than she had meant to be. _Calm face…_ “You and Emuniel aren’t close?” 

“Not particularly. He’s so much younger than I am.” 

Chloe would have guessed only a year or two, but it occurred to her she didn’t know Lucifer’s age.

“And he’s gone back to your father?” she asked. “Will he be OK? From what you’ve told me, your Dad isn’t the easiest of men to live with.”

“He’ll be fine. Staying with m… staying here would have been the wrong choice for him. And what was I supposed to do, let him tend bar at Lux? He hadn’t been in town for five minutes before he was arrested. The City of Angels would have eaten him alive. No, he’s gone to a better place.” 

“Lucifer! Don’t say that! He’s not dead!” she paused. “He’s not dead?”

“Nooo. He’s not dead. He simply went home. So,” he added, clinking his glass against the neck of her beer bottle, “thank you, Detective.” 

She sighed. “It’s funny, I was hoping for an ordinary day, but I guess you and I don’t get many of those.”

He bristled. “You’d rather we were boring?”

She sighed. “I’d rather I didn’t give people so much cause for gossip.”

“Do you regret it? Breaking your engagement to Pierce?”

It was a lightning bolt of a question. _Calm face, calm face._

“No, Lucifer. No.” His eyes flickered across her face and away, and she didn’t know if he was afraid to find a lie or afraid of what the truth would mean. She reined in the urge to take his hands and tried to explain. “I don’t regret ending my engagement. I regret causing pain. And I regret not being honest with myself sooner, you know? But once I realised it wasn’t right I had no choice.” She attempted to smile. “It’s just hard to be talked about all the time. But don’t worry, I can handle it. I’ve had worse. Palmetto Bitch, remember?”

“I remember.” He said it so seriously, when she’d been trying to make a joke of it. 

“Well,” she stuttered, “my professional reputation is important to me. You know how that is. Your reputation is important to you.” 

”It’s hardly the same, Detective. I _am_ most concerned with my reputation, because _I_ am constantly misrepresented as evil. You, on the other hand, are being accurately represented as someone who refused to go through with a marriage that would have made her unhappy. That shows rare judgement, and anyone who says otherwise can go to Hell.”

“No pun intended?”

“They’re always intended. Sadly not always appreciated - much like myself - but always intended. I mean it, Detective. They can go to Hell. I can arrange it for you if you’d like.” His smile could only be described as devilish. But his eyes were concerned. 

“Hmmm. I think I know what your brother meant.”

His “Oh?” was wary.

“You make me feel better. Even when I’m tired of myself.”

“Do I?” His eyes met hers and darted away. “I suppose I don’t like to see people punish themselves unnecessarily. But that’s lovely, Detective. You make me feel…” He leant towards her and blinked. “Drunk. Actually. Did you know I get drunker faster around you? It’s the vulnerability thing.”

Chloe realised in panic that he wasn’t leaning towards her so much as sliding off his stool. She slammed her bottle down and braced him. 

“Woooah. _I_ make you drunk? You are not blaming me for this. Give me your keys.”

He dug in his pocket and gave them to her. Then, to her dismay, he waved at the bartender to top up his glass.

“I ask you, Detective,” he said, “who wouldn’t get drunk? Who wouldn’t be tearing his bloody hair out? I ask my brother what he wants, and he tells me, and up to Heaven he goes. All sorted. He doesn’t choose to stay with me and that’s that. But I can’t ask you what you want. Doesn’t work. You’re a detective woman of mystery.” He swung his arm at her in an expansive gesture that threatened to spill his whiskey.

“Lucifer, listen to me. Listen,” she insisted, ducking her head to bring her face in front of his wandering gaze. “ _Listen_. Do you know what I want to do now? I _want_ to stop making a scene. I want to go home. I want to come in to work tomorrow like a normal cop who doesn’t have to deal with people pretending not to be human. And just get on with things, you know? Dan says there’s no normal and things are getting weirder but I, urgh, I keep trying. And you won’t let me be normal.”

He stared at her and she wanted to try and clarify things, because she knew in her bones that he was working up to some terrible Lucifer-like misunderstanding, but it was too late.

“Normal,” he said. “Yes. Well, that’s fine, Detective. Anything you desire. If you step back a bit I’ll sober up enough to distract this lot.”

Her skin prickled with alarm. There was no knowing what a drunk Lucifer would do. There was no knowing what a sober Lucifer would do either, but presumably he had some limits.

“Back, Detective. Baa-ack.”

Against her better judgement she slid off her stool and took a couple of steps away from him.

“Lovely,” he said, smiling at her. “Do I have to spell it out? Oh, all right. You go home. A riotous night will ensue, and in the morning any member of the LAPD who was present will have memories such that they won’t dare cast a stone at you. Tomorrow we’ll all be back to normal. Now, go on. Go!” He flapped his hands to shoo her away and stood up to his full height.

“Lovely members of the LAPD,” he announced in his most carrying voice, “the next round’s on me!” He handed over a black Amex card with a flourish.

The bar erupted in cheers and Lucifer removed his jacket. There was an appreciative whistle from the back corner and he raised his glass in that direction.

“Now, who wants to play a game of Drink and the Devil?” he asked. “We’re going to need a great deal of rum and a parrot. And will someone _please_ put some better music on?”

His audience cheered and the bartender started lifting down rum bottles.

Chloe didn’t doubt that Lucifer was going to relish whatever happened next. Still, he had been so sad about Emuniel that it had to be costing him to be his old, party animal self. She could have hugged him, only these days hugging had somehow become both too much and not enough. Plus, she was standing in a bar full of her gossipy colleagues and he was deliberately drawing attention away from her so that she could escape.

She slipped back towards the door, but couldn’t resist a look over her shoulder. Lucifer was busy passing out glasses, hair mussed, explaining a drinking game she _definitely_ didn’t want to hear the rules to. He shouldn’t have known she was looking. He definitely shouldn’t have managed to catch her eye and grin at her.

_Calm face, calm face…. To Hell with it._

Chloe smiled back at him as she ducked into the street.

**Author's Note:**

> This is still a bit of a work in progress, but I wanted to post it before the new series came out and made a nonsense of it!


End file.
